


these scars (never go away)

by thisissirius



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8575537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: Robert puts an arm around Aaron's shoulders, draws him close. He grins, lopsided, and thinks of his mum sitting there, eyes warm as she gazes at the two of them. It’s easier to say, “This is Aaron, mum. I'm gonna marry him.”
   Aaron’s cheeks redden, but he smiles, waving a hand awkwardly out to his right. “Hi.”   It feels like a big moment, and Robert can’t help but wonder what Sarah would think of this. His fingers curl into the fabric of Aaron’s jacket. “Do you think she’d proud?”  the anniversary of sarah's death, robert standing up to diane, and aaron standing up for robert. deals with what diane said in tonight's episode.





	

**Author's Note:**

> because i have a lot of emotions about what diane said at sarah's grave site. 
> 
> (ignoring the whole kiss situation because that annoys me just as much)
> 
> if you didn't already know, i love robert a lot, and just want him to be happy. i don't think that's too much to ask, ed, is it?
> 
> unbeta'd, as usual.

Robert wakes tangled up in Aaron.

They gravitate towards each other in the night, and this morning is no different. Robert’s head is pillowed on Aaron’s shoulder, an arm solid and warm against his back. The room is still dark, foreboding, and Robert thinks about the day, about the absences.

When he stops to think about it, and he honestly tries not to, the gaping hole Sarah’s death left in his life won’t ever close. She was his mum, the one person in the world he could always count on to love him and stand by him no matter what. Aaron comes close, is everything Sarah ever was, but he can’t fill that hole. Robert doesn’t think anyone can, not even Diane.

He closes his eyes, presses his face into Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron doesn’t stir, his breath even, and Robert splays his fingers over Aaron’s chest. Diane was supposed to be a surrogate mother, was supposed to be the one person who would stand by Robert. Instead, she’s waiting for him to fail like everybody else. It hurts, but Robert’s gotten through worse.

Sleep doesn’t come again, and he resigns himself to waiting for his phone to vibrate across the surface of his dresser, or for Aaron to wake, whichever comes first. Aaron’s heart beats steadily under Robert’s cheek, the puff of his breath stirs the hairs on Robert’s head. He doesn’t know when this became a comfort, when this was everything he ever wanted. His mum would have been happy, he can almost picture her sitting in the pub, nursing a drink and looking at him with love and affection.

He lets out a slow breath, shaky, and tries not to imagine what his life would have been like if she’d lived.

 

 

“Say hi to your mum for me, yeah?” Liv says, a piece of toast in one hand, shouldering her bag with the other. She looks hesitant, like Robert’s going to chastise her.

Instead, he nods, giving her a half smile. “Yeah, will do.”

Liv pauses and then ducks in for a quick hug, letting go within seconds. Robert’s startled, opens his mouth to say something, but she’s already disappearing out the door. When he looks at Aaron, he’s greeted with a soft smile and a brush to the back of his head. It’s affectionate in ways Aaron rarely is, and Robert’s heart thumps double time in his chest.

 _I don_ _’t deserve this,_ he thinks, grips his mug of tea harder than he means to, staring down into the dark brown liquid. He swallows thickly, ignores the creeping sensation of dread from settling at the base of his spine. He’s never been this _cowardly_ before, never waited for the house of cards to fall. He’s been the one to keep propping it up, doing things that would make Sarah’s skin crawl. He closes his eyes against the burn in them, and takes a long sip of his tea.

He can feel Aaron’s eyes on him.

 

 

The walk up to the grave is always hard.

He hates the years he was absent, when he couldn’t come and visit. He always thought of her, toasted her with a whisky and a kaleidoscope of memories, some of which he couldn't bury. Aaron’s with him this year, a warm hand to his back, always a comfort. They stand by the grave site, Robert with the flowers in hand, Aaron shoulder to shoulder with him. Robert doesn't know what to say, he never really knows what to say. When he can finally lay the flowers on the ground, he tries to whisper something, but the words stick in his throat. He wants to tell her the flowers are from all of them, from Vic and Robert and <i>Andy</i>. He touches her headstone, hates this.

When he stands, Aaron’s there, hand back on his spine. Robert puts an arm around his shoulders, draws him close. He grins, lopsided, and thinks of his mum sitting there, eyes warm as she gazes at the two of them. It’s easier to say, “This is Aaron, mum. I'm gonna marry him.”

Aaron’s cheeks redden, but he smiles, waving a hand awkwardly out to his right. “Hi.”

It feels like a big moment, and Robert can’t help but wonder what Sarah would think of this. His fingers curl into the fabric of Aaron’s jacket. “Do you think she’d proud?”

Before Aaron can reply, Robert hears the crunch of leaves underfoot. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees Diane walking up, flowers in hand. Robert’s chest tightens, and he looks at the ground, the corner of his mum’s headstone, anywhere but Diane.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” Diane says, her mouth an angry line.

It hurts. Now he's here in the village, he wouldn't be anywhere else on this day. “Why?”

She says something scathing about Rebecca, about his planning and plotting and Robert’s stomach drops. He’d seen her come in, remembers telling Aaron about it the night before, legs tangled, wondering how much Diane heard, what she thinks of him.

“I want to get Andy home, and I’ll do whatever it takes.” It’s nothing he hasn’t said before, nothing Diane’s not heard him said before.

“Poor Sarah,” Diane says, looking down at the flowers already resting against the headstone. “She’d be disappointed to see what you’ve become.”

Robert goes cold, feels the breath punch out of him. He’s got his hands in his pockets, curls his fingers into his palms and stares hard at the ground. _Is she right?_

Diane lays down her flowers, barely glances at Robert as she leaves. Robert feels the weight of Aaron’s eyes on him, the hand that’s burning against his back. Robert runs, it’s what he’s always done, but his feet feel like they’re rooted to the spot.

_Is she right?_

Aaron presses his fingers to Robert’s chin, makes him look up. “She’s wrong.”

Robert wants to believe him. He stares at Sarah’s headstone over Aaron’s shoulder, his throat thick with emotion. “Would she?”

“ _No_ ,” Aaron stresses. He tugs Robert’s hands from his pockets, curls their fingers together. Robert hangs on, anger broiling under the surface of his hurt. Diane has _no right_. She doesn’t know, everything Robert’s done, everything he’s still doing, he’s done for their family, because it’s the right thing to do. “She knows what you’re doing and why.”

She doesn’t, she can’t. Robert barely knows what he’s doing half the time, feels like he’s grasping at air. He wants Chrissie to suffer, to feel the way Robert’s feeling. He can be nasty, knows he can, but he wonders how Sarah would see those parts of him.

Aaron’s grip tightens, but Robert can’t stand here anymore, doesn’t want to taint this place.

“Let me go.”

Robert’s surprised when Aaron does, but he knows Aaron, knows he’ll be found sooner rather than later. He doesn’t care, flees the grave site. He doesn’t know where he’s going, just that he can’t be _here_.

 

 

 

He wanders the graveyard for a bit, disappears from Emmerdale for a little longer, then retreats to the pub. It feels like another failure.

The room he shares with Aaron is still dark, neither of them bothering to open the curtains that morning. The bed’s unmade, clothes haphazardly thrown around the room, but it’s comforting and Robert sinks down onto the bed, fists against his knees. Diane’s words reverberate around his head like a constant buzzing, reminding him that no matter what he does, no matter the reason, he’s never going to get it right.

He’s trying to be better, trying to change to be the person Aaron deserves, but it never feels like enough for anybody else. It shouldn’t matter, Aaron’s opinion is the only that counts now, but it hurts. He hates the disappointed look in Diane’s eyes, in Vic’s. It reminds him too much of Jack’s disappointment, his constant resignation that Robert would fuck up, would _always_ fuck up.

Sarah never did that. Robert doesn’t know if she would have; maybe he would never have been — maybe he’d have been the kind of person who deserves Aaron, really deserves him, if she’d been alive. Maybe he —

Shoving down those thoughts, Robert shrugs out of his jacket, stares at his face in the mirror and sneers. Maybe everyone’s right, maybe he should just be the person they’re expecting. It’s not fair on Aaron maybe, not fair to go back to the person he’s afraid Robert’s always going to be, but Robert’s at the end of his rope. He _can_ _’t_ do this—

“I want to see him.”

Startled, Robert frowns, heads for the door. It’s Diane’s voice, loud and demanding.

“I don’t think so.” Aaron, louder, at the foot of the stairs. Robert keeps the door half closed, but he can see the stiff line of Aaron’s back from his vantage point. He can’t see Diane, but Aaron shifts on his feet, blocking the stairs. “Give him time.”

Robert’s lips quirk up into a smile. It feels like something he could get used to, Aaron protecting him. It’s been a long time since someone’s wanted to. Aaron’s an insurmountable barrier, just like Robert wants to be for Aaron. He’s overwhelmed with shame for thinking that he could ever _stop_ changing, could ever be what anybody else wants him to be. It’s Aaron, it’s always Aaron.

“I need to talk to him,” Diane tries again, still loud. They have to know he can hear them, but neither of them seem to care.

“I think you said enough in the graveyard.” Aaron’s angry. Even if Robert couldn’t see it in the way he’s standing, it’s heavy in every word he speaks.

There’s a short silence, then Diane says, more quietly, “I want to apologise.”

Robert wants to step out then, to hear what she has to say, but Aaron’s already talking.

“You know what Sarah means to him,” Aaron says, firm. “You’re angry, you have a right to be, but not at Robert. You definitely don’t have a right to tell him what Sarah would think.”

Aaron’s not a talker, not really. He’s the silent type, the kind of person Robert’s had to learn to read. He likes to think he knows so much about Aaron, much more than most people, and even in this Robert knows; Aaron’s protecting him from _Diane._ It makes Robert want to tell Diane to go, to wrap himself around Aaron and kiss him until neither of them can breathe.

Diane makes a soft sound, sad. “I never wanted to hurt him.”

“Well you did,” Aaron snaps.

“I know.” Robert can see Diane now, her hair, the lines of her face. She looks guilty, sad. Robert’s heart clenches. She’s still a mum of sorts, still the only person he has in that role, and he pushes open the door a little more.

“Aaron, it’s okay.” He stands at the top of the landing, hands hanging by his sides, staring at Aaron’s face. “I’ll be right down.”

“You don’t have to—” Aaron starts, eyes narrowing.

“It’s fine,” Robert presses.

Aaron looks unhappy, but he nods, waits for Diane to head into the back room. She does, after a quick glance at Robert. Robert takes a deep breath, wills himself to not fuck this up, then heads downstairs.

 

 

 

Diane is sitting on the edge of the sofa when Robert walks in, her hands clasped in her lap.

Aaron’s standing by the table, arms folded, every bit Robert’s bodyguard. Robert can’t pretend he doesn’t like it, but this is Diane, she’s still Robert’s family. Robert presses a hand to Aaron’s arm, squeezes gently. Aaron watches his face, eyes still narrowed, but whatever he sees in Robert’s expression must satisfy him, because he relaxes a fraction, slides into one of the chairs at the table.

Robert sits on the coffee table, knows Chas would be yelling if she were here, but he doesn’t want to sit next to Diane. He’s still hurting, still angry, but she deserves this from him at least.

“I’m sorry, Robert,” Diane says, and she’s sincere. Her eyes are guilty. “I was angry and I took it out on you.”

“She was —” _my mum_. Robert can’t bring himself to say it, the words gets stuck in his throat. He rubs his hands against his knees. “I thought you were right.”

Diane’s face falls, her hands make aborted movements in her lap, like she wants to reach for him and thinks better of it. “I’ll never forgive meself for that. I am sorry.”

“Everyone always expects me to fail,” Robert says. It’s like a wave, now that he’s started, he can’t stop. “No matter what I do, you’re always waiting for me to screw up, to prove you right.”

“ _Robert_.” Diane does reach for him then, rests a hand on his knee. He wants to pull away but he doesn’t, instead looks at the sofa. “I’m sorry.”

He wonders if this is what it was like for Aaron, constantly hearing _I_ _’m sorry_ and have the words mean nothing, not really.

There’s a long silence. Robert can hear the squeak of the chair as Aaron shifts, Diane’s breathing, the tick of the clock on the mantle. Everything feels too close, too far, and Robert doesn’t know what to say.

Diane breaks the silence. “I went to see Chrissie.”

Robert’s said everything he can about that, wishes for the millionth time that Rebecca had kept her mouth shut. Looking back at Aaron reveals he’s as frustrated as Robert.

“I know,” Diane says, looking between them. “I had to, I had to _know_.”

“Why?” Robert snaps. “Why can’t you just leave it?”

“Because Andy’s as good as my son!” Diane says. Robert pushes himself out of her grasp, stands. He paces, unconsciously ends up next to Aaron. Diane’s face falls, but she carries on. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you the same, Robert, you know I do.”

Robert doesn’t. It doesn’t feel like it. It sounds like a broken record even to him, but Robert knows Andy is the favoured son. He’s always been the one people prefer, and Robert understands that to a degree. He wasn’t lying when he told Aaron he wasn’t easy to love, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be right.

“What did Chrissie tell you?” Aaron asks, when it’s clear neither Robert nor Diane are going to speak.

Diane shifts a little further forward, her eyes wide. “She told me that Andy was the one who — that Andy arranged to have you shot.”

It’s not what Robert’s expecting, and he freezes, can’t make his mouth work. He wants to refute it, wants to keep hold of the silence he’s been maintaining all this time, but he can’t. Diane sees it in his face, the confirmation she’s never wanted, and something in her seems to break. She presses a hand to her mouth, looks away from him.

“I never—” Robert starts, looks at Aaron.

Aaron’s fingers press harder into Robert’s back. “Robert.”

“I didn’t want you to find out,” Robert says eventually.

Diane frowns. “Why? Didn’t you think it was something I deserved to know?”

Robert laughs, self-deprecatingly, and gestures at her. “Would you have believed me? Really? You didn’t even believe it when Chrissie told you, you had to come here and see if she was right!”

“That’s not _Andy_ ,” Diane says, defiant to the last about protecting Andy.

Robert feels the weight of it press into him, wants to punch something. He clenches his hands into fists, but Aaron exerts a warning pressure, says, “no,” under his breath.

Robert acquiesces, even if it goes against his every instinct to do so.

“You’re wrong,” Aaron says instead, his eyes glittering angrily as he faces down Diane. “Andy’s capable of arranging something like that. He’s even pulled the trigger himself.”

Robert’s startled by the admission, remembers telling Aaron his history over weeks, months, in the nights before they sleep. Confessions about Jack, about Andy, about _before_.

Diane seems to sag as she realises the weight of what Aaron’s saying.

“You never wanted to believe it of him.” Aaron’s tone softens. “But Andy’s just as capable.”

 _As Robert_ , he doesn’t say, but they all hear it. Robert’s not offended, just feels the familiar pang of guilt at how he used to be, how he used to treat everyone.

“I know that now,” Diane says, and it feels like she does, like she might finally understand. “Robert, I’m sorry.”

The words ring hollow, but Robert smiles, nods. It doesn’t feel like the right kind of smile, and judging by the way Aaron’s looking at him, it’s not. Robert’s tired, just wants her gone. Again, Aaron reads him; Robert doesn’t know how he got this lucky.

“Diane,” Aaron starts, but maybe when she’s not wrapped up in her own anger and guilt, Diane can read him too.

“I’ll go,” Diane says, reaching for her handbag. “I am sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much right now.”

“You should come back tomorrow,” Robert says, surprising himself. “We can have dinner or something.”

Diane’s answering smile, the approval in Aaron’s eyes, tells him it was the right thing to do. “Thank you. I do love you, Robert.”

Robert closes his eyes, nods, and doesn’t know what to say. Diane leaves, but Robert can’t watch her go. He takes Aaron’s chair, taps his fingers against the table. He hears the door close, and feels rather than hears Aaron sit down next to him.

Neither of them say anything. Robert doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t really knows how he feels.

“Come on,” Aaron says eventually, reaches for Robert’s hand. Robert lets Aaron tug him up and hug him, grip tight. Robert takes comfort from it, loves Aaron more than he ever thought he could love anyone.

“Thank you,” Robert says into the curve of Aaron’s shoulder.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Aaron says, kissing Robert’s temple, his cheek, noses around to Robert’s mouth. They kiss, chaste and soft, but it’s everything Robert needs in that moment. “She’d be proud of you.”

Robert’s heart clenches and he has to bury his face in Aaron’s neck. Aaron’s hand rests against the back of his head, fingers stroking his hair softly.

“ _I_ _’m_ proud of you.”

Maybe Sarah would be proud of him, maybe she’d be smiling wherever she is, but it matters more that Aaron’s proud of him, that Aaron loves him.

Robert’s never going to let go of this, of Aaron, not for anything.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come hang with me on [tumblr](http://sapphicsugden.tumblr.com) if you like :)


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